Page 107 of Perfect Satisfaction

“Did anyone see you graduate from Harvard?” She has no idea I scoured the internet and managed to find footage of her crossing the stage at MIT. I know damn well no one from her family was there—even Angie. It’s even more awesome that Brendan Blake gave the commencement speech knowing Sula’s close with his family.

Her laugh rings off the plaster and cement as she sails out the door.

I just wish the echo was something worth hearing.

“Ursula Kayla Moore!”

There’s a spate of applause as she strides across the stage at her MIT graduation. Her hair is choppy, barely brushing the underside of her chin. At first I didn’t recognize her pinched features gracing her elfin face under the mortarboard.

I pull out the notepad I’ve been documenting Ursula’s life on. Tapping my pen against it, I murmur, “Why were you so unhappy? What put that look on your face on what should have been one of the best days of your life?”

Over and over, I replay the clip as she climbed the stairs, staring at my wife, recalling the closed-off woman who was so focused on the flight to Vegas. I touch my nose where her ring lays. “Was it fate, sweetheart? Were we meant to meet?”

For the millionth time, I see her cross the stage, accepting her diploma and a handshake first from the president of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology before stepping forward to accept a second congratulatory handshake from—oddly—Brendan Blake.

The country music star led his speech with a quote from Victor Hugo. “Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.” He then went on to encourage Ursula’s graduating class to translate the knowledge they garnered from one another to break through barriers that words often silenced.

It was a solid speech.

It didn’t come close to the emotion I felt knowing Sula was alone in that audience.

No family. No friends.

My soul aches for her. I’m wondering what I can do when my phone rings. I answer it with an absentminded, “Hello?”

My grandfather launches in straight away. “Arek, what have you been doing to fix your marriage?”

“I’m trying to woo my wife,” I reply honestly.

“You need to do more,” he grumbles.

“I know.” I don’t add that I need to do everything because, as sure as I know my name, I can feel Sula holding back.

“You’re a fool, son.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.”

“Stop playing with your marriage before it’s too late to get it back.”

“Thanks for the support.”

“The only support you need is to avoid face-planting when I kick you in the rear, young man. Have I taught you nothing?”

“Gramps,” I begin.

“Fix it,” he says before hanging up on me.

Returning to the graduation footage, I catch my favorite part and hit Pause. Pride burns deep inside as the corner of her lips lift for a brief second. “You did it, sweetheart. You did it.”

Suddenly, I’m driven to give Sula something she’s never had before.

Family.

A few hours later, I hear the lock give and pray to God I’m not about to make an absolute fool of myself. Fortunately, nothing is impossible to get delivered in New York City if you’re willing to pay enough money for it. I glance down at what I’m wearing and hope it makes a difference—that maybe I can break through the final walls to have the difficult conversations we need to.

So we can make our way back to us.

After rewatching her MIT graduation, I scoured the internet and found Sula’s Harvard records, including confirmation that she graduated summa cum laude and her capstone. It took me an hour to read and re-read her published work comparing the Cold War to the persistent cybersecurity attacks today—mainly trying to understand it.